Of Fire and Ice
by BlueEyedDemonLiz
Summary: Vampires and Winchesters never did mix well. When his boys are taken by a group of deadly vampires hell bent on revenge, John begins to realise there’s more to life than just the hunt. Set preSeason One. Rated for violence. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_Here it is my second attempt at a multi-chapter __fanfic__, hope you'll enjoy – please review, I genuinely appreciate any negative or positive comments as they all help...and boy, do I need help. _

_Disclaimer: I did kidnap the boys but __Kripke__ got nasty so I gave them back, jeez he never shares. Nope I own nothing._

_**The boys are younger in this **__**fic**__**, pre-Season One, Sam is 17 and Dean 21.**_

**Of Fire ****a****nd Ice**

**Chapter 1**

"You really should take better care of your young" Anna smiled, raising her arm and pointing at the lake beyond him.

John doesn't want to look, doesn't want to lose eye contact, doesn't want to give her the chance to get the drop on him. But those are his boys she's dangling in front of him, his babies she's taunting him with so he turns slowly and stares through the trees. He can just make out the glimmering lake in the darkness, frozen over, moonlight making the ice sparkle. By the edge of the lake there's a body and John feels his mouth dry out as he realises it's Dean laying there not moving. John's eyes quickly scan the lake for Sam and then he spots his youngest, surrounded and being forced away from Dean. John watches, his mouth dropping open as he realises that Sam is scrambling backwards onto the frozen lake as the vampires close in around him.

John doesn't hesitate, he takes off running though the trees towards the lake, Anna's mocking laugh ringing in his ears. He's shouting, not actual words but loud angry screams, anything to cause a distraction. The group pause and their attention is turned away from Sam, who's now pretty much standing in the centre of the frozen lake defenceless. Two of the group head back towards land, towards John and attack. John's lightening fast, his urge to protect his children making him sharp and accurate. He decapitates the first attacker with one strong blow, knocking the body to one side. The second loses his head just as quickly, his body dropping to the ground with arms still flailing as blood spurts forth staining the crisp white snow. The remaining three are enraged now and yelling threats filled with biting fury. The tall white haired man, whom John recognises as their leader, makes a grab for Sam, taking his son by the hair. He pulls Sam forward and puts a strong arm round Sam's neck, holding him against his chest. John's still stood on the bank but he can clearly see Sam grasping frantically at the arm, struggling to breathe as it presses in on his windpipe. John drops his axe deliberately and slowly holds his hands up in surrender. The white haired man's thin lips open in a small smile revealing the sharp fangs beneath but he doesn't release Sam. Instead he stamps a booted foot on the ice below his feet, cracking it and the frozen lake begins to groan and shift.

"Dean!" Sam's desperate whisper travels across the lake. John looks over at Dean realising with a sudden crushing sense of utter relief that his oldest wasn't dead just unconscious. Dean is sat up now, staring wide eyed at his brother out on the ice. The left side of Dean's face is slick with blood but he still manages to climb shakily to his feet.

"Dad? Do something" Dean begs.

John's response is drowned out as a loud crack echoes around them and they realise that the ice beneath Sam's feet has begun to break. The white haired man laughs and pushes Sam so that he stumbles forward falling heavily on his knees. Dean takes a breath and holds it as he watches Sam struggle on the ice, trying to get to his feet, before the ice finally gives way and Sam disappears with a gut wrenching yell into the freezing water beneath.

The vampires are moving fast, supernaturally fast, across the breaking ice towards the land. John grabs for his axe knowing he's got to protect his injured son but Dean is already running away from him, scrambling onto the ice, screaming Sam's name.

"Son, down on your belly" John yells at Dean, raising his axe, ready to face the vampires' attack.

Dean lays flat, trying to spread his weight and pulls himself forward across the ice towards the spot where Sam had been standing. Dean's trying to concentrate on getting to Sam without falling through the ice himself but he can't stop his brain from working like crazy. He can't stop himself from trying to figure how long Sam's been under the water, under the _freezing_ water.

He's finally at the hole where Sam slipped through the ice and still laying on his front, Dean reaches his arms into the water, the icy cold causing pain which stabs into his forearms like a hundred small daggers. Frantically he grasps for something, praying his fingers will find Sam's arm or his coat, anything which will mean he can pull his brother out of the water. But his fingers are quickly going numb and there's nothing down there. Dean doesn't look up but knows John's by his side. He can hear his dad's breath hitching in his chest as he pants. He feels a strong hand on his shoulder, squeezing "he's gone Dean, let him go" his dad whispers, his voice quiet and broken.

Dean looks up and see's fresh blood splattered on John's face, he knows his dad dispatched those vampires as fast as he possibly could. "No" he replies stubbornly, his body trembling with the cold. Dean starts pulling off his boots and before John can grab him he's in the water. Dean gasps in pain before taking a deep breath and disappearing under the surface.

John rubs a hand over his chin, trying to keep his panic at bay as it threatens to overwhelm him. He reaches into the water. His sons are down there, his sons. Finally his fingers meet with an arm and he pulls it up towards the surface. Dean's head appears rising up out of the water and he takes in a huge lungful of air, "Dad, help me" he gasps and John is dazed as he realises Dean is holding Sam.

John goes into overdrive. He grabs Sam and pulls him from the water, Sam's face is a pale shade of blue and his body is completely limp. He grabs Sam's collar and begins dragging him towards the bank. Dean slowly hauls himself from the water and follows. Once Sam is laid out on the bank, John puts a shaking hand to Sam's neck and checks for a pulse, there's nothing. Dean collapses weakly to his knees, helplessly watching his dad. "Dean gets those clothes off or you'll get hypothermia" John commands throwing his own coat at Dean as he tilts Sam's head back and begins CPR.

Dean takes off his jacket but his body doesn't seem to want to respond to what his brain is telling it to do. His movements are slow and sluggish and he's too transfixed on his brother's still face as his dad's hands begin pumping on Sam's chest. He slips on John's coat and shivers, Dean's teeth are chattering so hard he feels like they might break. "He's gone into cardiac arrest..." John mutters looking up, "Dean, my phone, get an ambulance here now!" John shouts before pinching Sam's nose and breathing twice into his son's mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry to have been so cruel and left you __with__ such a cliff hanger__ but it was getting close to 2am New Year's Day...I know, I know__ no excuse for__ leaving Sam and Dean in such a pitiful __state __but__ I do love a bit of limp_

**Chapter 2**

Dean pauses looking intently at his brother, whose face is as ghostly pale as the snow around him, "Dean?" John shouts continuing to pump frantically on Sam's chest.

Dean looks down and fumbles in his father's jacket pocket, his fingers feeling huge and useless. He struggles to grip the phone in his hand. "No...no signal dad" he can feel himself begin to cry and he drops the phone. Tears begin to roll down his face leaving track marks in the blood on his cheeks but he doesn't feel like he could wipe them away even if he wanted to.

John stops the CPR and for one horrified moment, Dean thinks he's given up on Sam. John sits back on his haunches and puts a hand to Sam's neck, this time, there's a pulse but it's slow and weak. Sam's mouth opens taking a staggered breath and his chest rises lightly. It's still so cold and tiny clouds of vapour begin to rise from his mouth as he breaths. John reaches down and picks Sam up. He carries him in his arms pressed close to his chest, like he did years ago in a time when Sam was still the smallest member of the Winchester family. Dean gets up, too stunned to stop crying and as John starts to head back through the trees towards the road Dean stumbles behind him.

The Impala is there, covered in a light dusting of snow. John bundles Dean onto the back seat and gentle lays Sam next to him. Dean has Sam's head cradled in his lap and is unconsciously stroking his younger brother's hair with a trembling hand. John runs to the boot and removes a blanket. With extraordinary tenderness the seasoned hunter covers his boys with the blanket and gets in the car. In a heartbeat John has the heating turned up to full and warm blasts of air fill the car as he starts to drive. He reaches into the glove box and removes a chocolate bar which he passes to Dean.

"Jeez Dad, I'm not hungry" Dean stammers through chattering teeth shoving it away incredulously.

"Eat it, you need to get your blood sugar level up" John replies.

Dean takes the bar and rips it open with his teeth, keeping one hand resting gently on Sam's head. He bites into it, the sudden sweetness on his tongue making him feel at once sick to the stomach. Yesterday he could eat these things for every meal but now...now he can barely stomach each mouthful.

"How's your brother's breathing?" John asks trying to keep his eyes on the road and not on the rear view mirror where he can see Sam laid out on the back seat, his lips and eyelids still tinged blue.

Dean leans forward, his ear pressed close to Sam's mouth. He looks up, his face panicked "he's barely breathing dad".

John puts his foot down hard on the gas...

**1 week earlier, ****Lake Edge**** Mote****l, ****Minnesota**

"Move it geek" Dean shouts at Sam, watching as his brother folds his clothes slowly before carefully placing them into his rucksack. "Dad's waiting, we gotta get moving" Dean says again before striding over. He picks up the last of Sam's clothing from the bed and crumples them into a ball before tossing them into the rucksack. "There, all done" he smirks.

"Wow, thanks Dean, now I get to look even more like a scarecrow in your hand-me-downs" Sam fastens the bag and follows his brother out the door.

"Boys, we've got at least a 5 hour drive ahead of us. That's 5 hours we don't have. People are dying" John leans round in his seat to look at Sam, sat obstinately in the back refusing to make eye contact. "That means we've got to leave, you understand? Sam?"

"Yes sir" Sam mumbles fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. He doesn't want to leave. Sure, this place is just another nameless dead end town but it's as good as anywhere and Sam liked it here. He liked the tiny library with its rows of dusty shelves, even more than that, he liked the school. Making friends at school had always been a struggle for Sam because each and every time his dad got the whiff of a new hunt he had to start over somewhere else. Every new school meant a new name to remember, a new back story which he dare not mess up on. He'd seriously considered having "new boy" tattooed on his forehead because by now, it seemed like that's all he was ever going be. This time, for a change, things had been easy for him at school. He had been as quiet and shy as always but one girl had taken the time to speak to him, actually approaching his table in the dining hall and taking a seat. Later in the week when she'd asked if he'd like to grab a soda after school, Sam had waited for a punch line which never came. Now he had to leave once more. He knew he'd never see Kate again, never even get to tell her he was leaving let alone why. When John had broke the news that they would be moving on, Sam had hated his father for it but deep down, he knew why they were leaving. It's just that knowing, never made it any easier.

The drive was filled with uneasy silence. Dean looked over his shoulder stealing a glance at his brother and grumbled to himself as he recognised the emo bitch was in a seriously bad mood. It seemed to Dean that Sam had one facial expression reserved for his dad as well as his dad's decisions and that expression didn't involve the appearance of Sam's dimples. Those things barely made an appearance much lately anyway. It's not like Dean didn't try to get the kid's face to crack, he knew enough jokes, albeit they were always smutty ones. He just couldn't understand why Sam always seemed unhappy. They were together, they were on the road and they had a hunt waiting for them, life was pretty sweet. Throw in a cheese burger and a smokin' hot chick and Dean would have been in heaven.

They'd been driving for 4 hours straight and Dean could almost hear his butt cheeks complaining. He was damn hungry too, there had been no question of stopping for breakfast and the diners which flew by the passenger side window seemed to taunt him mercilessly. John had woken him and Sam whilst it was still dark and they had been packed and on the road within the hour. Dean didn't know for certain but he was quite sure, John hadn't slept at all. His dad had been acting different lately, obsessed with this hunt in particular. Dean couldn't help but admit to himself that his dad always appeared fixated when it came to hunting but this time, it seemed different. Dean was a man now and had proven himself an astute and skilled hunter so it didn't make sense to him why his dad would keep him in the dark.

Dean looked down at his dad's journal which he had opened on his lap. He turned the pages carefully, giving each his upmost attention. Dad's journal rarely made it into his hands and to be trusted with it was a privilege. "Care to share where we're headed?" Dean asked.

"North Dakota, Father Jim called me with a new lead" John answered simply. Dean didn't press for any more information and as Sam was clearly still furiously engaged in a serious bout of silent brooding, the drive continued without any further conversation.

_Okay I've really got to get a New Year's dinner ready but am hoping to have a couple more chapters ready by tomorrow. Thanks for reading..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was almost noon when the Impala pulled into another motel parking lot. Sam let out a long sigh as he stared at the flashing motel sign 'The Phoenix Motel' only some of the red flashing bulbs had blown so the sign actually read 'The Pho nix M tel'.

"And they have vacancies, what a surprise" Sam complained to himself, letting his eyes wander over the peeling paintwork and general unkempt appearance of the place. Sam knew he was being unreasonable, this place was exactly what he was used to. It was just that lately, he'd started to seriously dislike motels with their miserable rooms stinking of stale smoke and bedding stained with things Sam didn't even want to contemplate. Moving on all the time was exhausting to him. He wanted to feel connected to a place. To look at a street and know the people who lived in the houses. To have roots somewhere. Not for the first time in his life, Sam found himself wishing he were more like Dean. Dean seemed to relish each move, loving the chance to check out the local bars, check out the local idiots from whom he could make a buck hustling pool and more importantly, check out the local girls.

John hurried to the office to check them in and then bundled the boys into their new accommodation. Once inside, he watched his boys move to their beds and slowly unpack. It seemed they moved on auto pilot where settling into a new motel was concerned. Over the years, they had stayed in hundreds and John, just like his boys was adept at keeping his personal possessions down to the very basics. His whole life was contained within the small bag he carried on his shoulder. John knew the weapons carried in the Impala trunk were what really mattered. Along with all the ammo, books, protection charms and bags of rock salt there was little space left for personal belongings and so they became less important. After all, a framed family photograph could do little to save his life or, more specifically, the lives of his children. John kept his memories in his head not feeling the need to have them reinforced by having sentimental attachment to some inanimate object. He treasured his memories of Mary and memories of happier times with his boys, locking them away safely in his mind. There they stayed stored alongside the nightmare inducing horrors John had witnessed over the years. Those he kept firmly locked away too.

John removed a roll of money from his pocket and peeled off a 20-dollar bill before handing it to Dean. "You boys get something to eat and I'll be back in the morning". John moved to leave but Dean was standing between him and the door.

"Wait, you're taking off already?" Dean asked reaching for his own leather jacket, which he had thrown unceremoniously onto his bed.

"Yes and I want you to stay here this time, watch your brother" John replied moving to pass Dean.

"Dad I'm 17, I don't need a babysitter" Sam grumbled from the corner of the room where he was unpacking.

"Dean, stay with Sam, that's an order" John said giving Dean a look which Dean recognised as the one he reserved for moments when he was deadly serious.

"Yes sir" Dean's face was anxious but he knew better than to question his father further. He watched reluctantly as the door opened and John disappeared into the afternoon sun.

Dean turned and sat down on his bed before realising Sam was stood glaring at him. "Hey, I don't like this any better than you kid". Dean said lying down on the lumpy mattress "Something's going on and I don't like it", Dean mumbled more to himself than to Sam. He was hungry but also incredibly tired. His body ached from the long drive. So Dean stretched out his legs and closed his eyes, just to rest them for a moment he thought. It wasn't long before he was snoring gently.

Sam watched Dean fall asleep. He decided to finish unpacking and then he'd take the money dad had left them and fetch some food. Most likely some healthy shit just to piss Dean off. Sam knew Dean held deep-seated animosity for any foodstuff that didn't contain a few thousand calories. As he reached the bottom of his rucksack his fingers fell upon a small folded piece of paper. He pulled it out and stared at it quizzically before opening it and starting to read.

"_Sammy, tell your dad I'm going to taste his sons tonight"_

The note was scrawled and messy, not to mention friggin' creepy as hell. Sam stood holding it in his hands and felt himself shudder slightly. He'd faced all kinds of danger before but he was used to fighting something he could see, something he could punch or shoot at but this was different. This threat was faceless and nameless and for Sam, that made it all the more sinister.

Sam went over to the huge canvas bag his dad had deposited on a chair. He pulled out a bag of rock salt and carefully laid a line of it underneath the motel room windows and door. Standing back he checked his handy work, making doubly sure that the lines were unbroken. He peered into the bag again, pulling out a small handgun. Slipping it into the back of his jeans, he felt a familiar comfort from the cold metal pressing against his skin.

Dean was starting to stir on the bed, so Sam waited for his brother to open his eyes before sitting on the bed next to him. Dean rubbed his face and blinked groggily at Sam, "please tell me you've fetched food?" he asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Not even coffee?" Dean growled.

Sam shook his head again and this time held out the note for Dean to read. Dean sat up, for the first time taking in the nervous expression on his brother's face. "What's this, you ain't been writing me love notes again have you?" he said as he unfolded the paper. The smirk dropped from his lips as he read. "What the hell is this?" he said waving the piece of paper before Sam's face.

"I don't know, I just found it in my bag" Sam replied.

"In your bag? Who put it there?" Dean asked, getting angry now.

"I don't know Dean, I don't have a clue what's going on" Sam said beginning to wish he'd just thrown the note away. "It might not mean anything, just bin it" Sam reached to take the note but Dean drew his hand back pulling it away.

"You can't just ignore it, some weirdo knows your name and is threatening to…taste us…now that's just wrong…on every level" Dean replied a look of disgust flashing across his face.

"So what do we do?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the feeling of unease growing in his stomach.

"We deal with it cos one things for certain, the only think that dude is going to taste is his own blood when I smash his face in" Dean says standing up and reaching for the knife stashed under his pillow.

_**More to follow very soon, I promise. Prepare yourself for a little Winchester whumpage and don't worry we'll find out what's happened to poor frozen Sammy and Dean soon. Also, thanks so much for the reviews so far, love reading them and appreciate them loads!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow I don't know why but this chapter has been a killer to write, hope you'll like it…_

**Chapter 4 **

Dean leaned back on the hard wooden chair, which he had positioned in front of the motel room door. Casually sharpening his knife on a small whetstone, he paused momentarily to glance up as Sam moved across the room. Sam took a seat on his bed, resting his back against the headboard. He grudgingly picked up a slice of cold pizza from the box which was laid open in front of him and took a small bite. "So this is your big plan Dean? We sit here, eating take out and just wait?" Sam asked suddenly breaking the silence, which had hung in the air too long between them.

"I don't hear you coming up with anything, dad's not answering his cell so we wait till we hear from him" Dean replied tersely.

"What if the weirdo's got him?" Sam whispered his sarcastic tone quickly changing to one of concern.

Dean continued to sharpen his knife only with more force this time, his grip on the handle making his knuckles turn white. He was becoming increasingly convinced he was going to sharpen the damn thing till the blade was destroyed. He hated this, hated being left behind on a hunt especially when he didn't have any idea where his dad had gone or even what he was hunting. "Dad can handle himself" Dean replied peering at the clock, "a few more hours and he'll be back, then he'll tell us what's going on".

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen" Sam grumbled getting up from the bed and starting to pace angrily. "Who are you trying to convince, me or you?"

"Sam!" Dean spat out exasperated, throwing his knife down.

Sam went to yell back but was interrupted by a sudden loud banging at the motel door. Dean rose quickly from the chair, instinctively moving himself to stand in front of Sam but Sam huffed and pushed forward so that he was standing side by side with his brother. Dean shot him a look, which said without the need for words _'well, if you die bitch, I'll kill you'_ and Sam answered by flashing a small dimpled grin. Their earlier bickering quickly forgotten.

The banging continued and they reached for their weapons. Finally the door gave in to the battering it was being given and flew open, large pieces of wood splintering and shooting off across the room as the door crashed into the wall. Three huge guys piled in and for a moment Sam was oddly relived because they were big guys and they looked pissed as hell but he and Dean had faced worse odds before and come out on top. His relief was short lived however when he heard the motel bathroom window smash and turned just in time to see two more guys clambering through the opening, oblivious to the shards of glass cutting into their hands.

One of the guys stood at the door walked towards them, stepping carefully over the pieces of broken doorframe. His hair was a brilliant white, strands of it hanging limply over his deathly pale face. He opened his mouth wide as though he was trying to show them his biggest best smile. Dean and Sam watched in horror as rows of sharp pointed teeth appeared and the smile became a dreadful macabre grin. The white haired man raised his hand like he was giving a signal and then, all hell broke loose.

Dean took the first hit, a sharp blow to the stomach but he went down throwing punches. Sam dived forward to pick up Dean's fallen knife and slashed blindly out with it. He yelled in surprise as a foot connected with the back of his knee, forcing him to the floor grunting in pain. He raised his head just in time to see a baseball bat connecting with the back of Dean's skull. The blow seemed to happen in slow motion and all Sam could do was cry out for his brother as Dean collapsed with a sickening thud. In the commotion, Sam was scrambling to get up off the floor, the men gathering around him as he tried to reach again for Dean's knife. A foot stamped down on his wrist and he heard himself scream as bones broke. A rough hand took a clump of his hair and pulled his head back sharply so his neck cracked in protest. With brutal, merciless, force his head was smashed onto the hard floor and Sam's world went black as oblivion took him in a warm sweet embrace.

Several hours passed. Consciousness returned to Dean like a hazy fog and it wasn't being kind. His skull felt like it had caved in and he raised a hand to tentatively touch the back of his pounding head, half expecting his fingers to come away covered in brain matter. They came away sticky and wet with his blood but no brain in sight and he let out a relived breath. He tried to sit up but couldn't, realising with despair that he was chained to the wall. He grunted pulling against the chains, straining to get a decent look at his surroundings. He was in a small bare room, which wasn't lit but there was a shaft of soft flickering light coming from underneath the door across from him and he could hear faint voices talking beyond it. Then it hit him hard that Sam wasn't in the room with him. A sudden boost of pure adrenaline pumped though his body, making him yank furiously on the chains. "Sammy?" he screamed, his anger growing more vicious by the second.

In what felt like hours later, when Dean's throat was sore from screaming and his wrists bleeding from struggling against the chains, the door to the room finally opened and a woman entered. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and slender with soft brown hair curling down her back. Dean would have been smitten, in another time, another place. Right now all he could think of was how best to tear her apart. She crouched down in front of him, leaning close to his ear "easy baby, you're so sweet, I bet you taste sweet like your brother".

Dean's eyes widened and he lunged forward reaching to grab at her but the chains yanked him back so he fell hard against the wall. "Don't…." he said breathlessly, "…. don't touch my brother".

The woman stood smiling down on him, relishing how her words had caused him pain. "Do you think daddy cares as much as you do? Do you think he cared when he left you behind at that motel? He may as well have served you both up on a silver platter"

She reached down and gripped his face in an unnaturally strong hold and, leaning forward she gently licked his cheek. Sharp white teeth flashing beneath her blood red lips. Dean squirmed, desperate to break free but found himself unable to pull away.

"Urgh, you are so going down bitch" he said when she eventually released her hold.

"So brave Dean. Your brother was brave too before we broke him" she smiled again, delighting once more as Dean's eyes betrayed his anguish.

Dean lent against the chains "I swear to God, I'm going to kill you" he hissed.

"Don't swear to God Dean, he's not going to help you" With that she turned and stalked out of the room slamming the door behind her.

Dean lent back against the wall, his breathing heavy as his body shook with unbridled rage. Slowly the rage petered out and he was left there, in the darkness, with only his despair for company.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much for the reviews, I'm thrilled to bits that you like what you've read so far. This story is slowly becoming an obsession of mine and I've probably freaked out my work colleagues who've seen me wandering round the office mumbling about 'decapitations' and 'chaining people up'….mwah ha ha ha. Anyway here's chapter 5…_

**Chapter 5**

Dean didn't know for how long sleep had claimed him, only that at some point he'd surrendered to a dreamless slumber, his aching body was testament to that much at least. His throat was parched with a burning thirst and the pizza he had eaten with Sam seemed like a distant memory to him now. He lent against the stone wall and feeling the dampness, which penetrated it. He turned and carefully sucked at the bricks, lapping up what little moisture he could collect with his tongue. When he'd finished, he lent over and retched somehow managing to keep the putrid water in his stomach. It left a horrid dank taste in his mouth but his thirst was somewhat satisfied.

'Vampires', Dean's head spun at the thought. He remembered the pages in his dad's journal had always mentioned vampires in the past tense. According to the journal, vampires were extremely rare, a species on the verge of extinction. Dean struggled to recall more from the journal but his head felt heavy and thoughts were difficult to form. Then he faintly remembered something, a line from the journal, which had said that decapitation was the only way to kill a vampire. _'Well, that's just great'_ Dean thought to himself, _'I don't even have a damn paperclip to get out of these chains, let alone a machete'._

An abrupt noise made Dean look towards the door and he squinted as it banged opened, dazzling light flooding the room. He felt himself shrink back against the wall as the white haired man walked in. He noticed then with disturbing clarity that the man was dragging someone, holding them under their arms so that their feet scraped along the floor. Dean knew it was Sam before he saw the too long chestnut hair, his heart knew it was Sam from the way it lurched in his chest and rose to his mouth. His brother was clearly unconscious, his eyes closed and his body inert as the man pulled him into the room. The white haired man didn't speak but instead let Sam drop callously to the ground by Dean's side so that Sam's head lolled back smacking the hard floor. He turned to leave but as he did so, he levelled a kick at Sam's back. Sam didn't respond, didn't even flinch but Dean did. "You son of a bitch" he snarled, his weakened state doing nothing to abate his fury. The man smirked as though greatly amused by Dean's response and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Dean took a moment to absorb the sight of Sam, not quite believing his luck at having his brother returned to him. Despite a nasty gash on Sam's forehead, he appeared to have no other obvious injuries, which Dean could see. At least there was no blood visible on his clothes. Then Dean saw a mark on Sam's arm and lent forward, pulling as far as the chains would allow so that he could take Sam's hand in his own and draw Sam's sleeve up gently. Dean let out an appalled gasp at what he saw. On Sam's wrist and forearm were several deep bloody bite marks, which stood out clearly against his pale flesh. Dean turned away and vomited, the foul water finally finding a release from his unsettled stomach. As he drew a hand across his mouth, thoughts raced through Dean's tired mind. He couldn't help but wonder if they had not chained Sam up because they thought he would be too weak from blood loss to try and escape or because they had 'turned' him and had left him here so that he would regain consciousness and feast on his brother. Dean felt nauseous at either prospect.

Dean took Sam's hand again, it was cold and clammy. He rested a finger against Sam's pulse noticing for the first time that his wrist was swollen, probably broken. Sam's pulse was strong but rapid. Dean didn't know how much blood Sam had lost, didn't really want to think about it. His brother's blood on the white haired man's lips. The woman's words of tasting his brother, tasting him, came back to taunt Dean relentlessly. Sam's eyelids flickered and Dean shifted reaching a tentative hand to pat at Sam's cheek, "hey…Sammy" he said, realising his voice was shaking.

Dean fell backwards in surprise as Sam's eyes flew open and his hands shot out defensively. Sam's eyes darted around the room, wild and unfocused as he struggled weakly to get away from whatever threat was before him. "Sam! Sammy, easy" Dean tried to pin Sam's arms but Sam continued to struggle and thrash. Dean reached up and grabbed Sam's face turning his head so he was forced to meet Dean's gaze.

Sam stilled, his mouth opening and closing as he sucked in deep breaths of air. "Dean?" Sam's voice sounded small and lost.

"Yeah, the one and only, buddy" Dean said letting his hands drop from Sam's face. "Just lie back okay, you've lost some blood".

Sam let himself sink back onto the cold hard floor. His eyes searching for Dean again, only settling once Dean had moved himself back into his line of vision. "Boy Dean, you look like crap" Sam smiled weakly.

"Well then, I guess we're a matching pair" Dean countered with a snort rubbing a hand through his short hair. His relief that Sam was indeed still his Sammy and not a blood crazed vampire was sudden and overpowering.

Sam felt terrible and his body throbbed with a dread he'd not experienced before. He'd been pretty much out of it since they had been taken from the motel, coming to for a moment several times before passing out again. Sam awoke once to find a woman holding his arm. She'd caught his eye and smiled before opening her mouth and leaning forward, sinking her teeth into his soft flesh. Sam had struggled against her hold but darkness had received him once more. His waking moments had been his nightmares. No dad, no Dean, only hurt and fear. He felt safety only in unconsciousness, there the darkness surrounded him, enveloping his body in warmth and he felt no pain.

Dean looked down as Sam's eyelids slid closed and his head fell to the side. He reached out a hand and awkwardly touched his brother's head, letting his hand rest there. "We're going to get out of here" Dean whispered quietly to Sam's peaceful face. '_God Dad I hope you're coming'_ he thought to himself.

Several miles away, John Winchester removed an axe from the Impala's trunk and waited.

-O-

_Okay, tomorrow is Saturday so I'll probably take a break from beating up Sam and Dean. Should have a new chapter up on Sunday, Monday by the latest…promise!_


	6. Chapter 6

_If you're reading this, well, thanks__ so much__ for sticking with me. __Here's a __slightly __longer chapter than normal seeing as I took a little __break_

**Chapter 6**

John had returned to the motel feeling drained and grief stricken, the faint smell of smoke still clinging to his dirty clothes. It had been a long night, which had ended once again with a fire. John had prepared the funeral pier himself and stood alone watching the blaze as it burned down to glowing embers. His dear friend's body gradually reduced to ash. A pile of ashes John told himself was a poor tribute and John knew his friend deserved more honour than that, honour which had been denied him as he died. Too many piers John had lit of late. Too many good people, good friends, he had lost, watching as their bodies were destroyed by flames. The stench of smoke seemed forever in his nostrils and the residue of ash embedded in the lines of his hands.

There had been a police car in the motel parking lot when John returned and he entered the building, pulling up his collar in an attempt to hide his face. He did so out of a long held belief that he must always take precautions. He was forever instructing his boys to avoid drawing attention to themselves and as such, they ensured they rarely appeared on the police's radar. As he got to the top of the stairs he saw the damage to the door of his motel room, the room he had left his boys behind in, and managed to duck out of sight as two police officers exited the room talking.

"The manager is livid" one of the officers muttered to his colleague.

"No kidding, someone has trashed that room. Not that you can tell the difference in a classy place like this. Didn't he say some guy and his sons were staying there? Long gone now I bet." The other officer replied reaching for his notebook as the two wandered down the hallway towards the manager's office.

John waited until they had disappeared and then easing himself out of his hiding spot he made his way into the room. John's stomach did a flip as he took in the state of the room. There were smashed pieces of glass and wood on the floor and a table in the corner had been overturned. Then he noticed the salt by the door, which had clearly once formed a line although now most of it had been scuffed into the carpet. His sons had been expecting trouble and the fact he hadn't been there to protect them sent a sharp pain stabbing into his heart. Their belongings were still in the room and he was thankful as he realised the officers hadn't yet taken the time to go through the bags. Which, had they done so, would have revealed a selection of books, vials of holy water and a reasonable amount of deadly weapons. John quickly collected the bags together and made to leave the room. As he did so, he spotted a piece of paper on the floor. Reaching to pick it up, he read the note slowly, absorbing the words carefully before letting it fall from between his fingers.

_"Sammy, tell your dad I'll going to taste his son's tonight"_

"Oh Jesus no" John mumbled, dashing from the room.

John returned to the Impala and opened the trunk, his hands running over the weapons stored there before finally settling upon a vicious looking axe. He let his fingers curl around the carved wooden handle, feeling the weight of it in his hands. These vampires had already taken so much, he be damned if he'd let them take his children too. He took his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on, looking down at the display screen. There were six missed calls, all from Dean's mobile, all from several hours ago. John felt bile rise in the back of his throat, he knew then that Dean had tried to call and he'd been too consumed in his guilt over his friend's death to check his phone. He stared down at the screen as though he thought angrily glaring at it for long enough would compel it to ring. He knew the vampires would call eventually, they always did. Tormenting him seemed to delight them as much as the sight of fresh blood. So he climbed into the Impala and waited, the axe resting on the passenger seat beside him and the phone clutched like a lifeline in his hand.

Sam still lay on the floor, tranquil in his unconsciousness and Dean sat back watching the rhythm of his brother's chest as it rose and fell. Dean was exhausted but he couldn't let himself sleep, not now he had Sam to watch over. Dean's wrists had stopped bleeding and dried blood clung to them, rubbing against the chains which still held him uncomfortably in place. He wondered what he would do if his Dad didn't come for them but stopped himself from expanding on the thought any further, Dad would come, _he would_. So it was with a mixture of desperate hope and paralysing trepidation that Dean looked up as the door to the room opened yet again. At first Dean couldn't make out anything because of the brilliance of the light which filled the room. He squeezed his eyes shut against it as the light fell across his face. A hand took hold of his chains and he opened his eyes as he felt the chains fall away from him. Then Dean's heart sank and the small smile dropped from his lips, it was the white haired man looking down on him. Strong hands gripped his arms and pulled him to his feet. He was weak and his legs wobbled with the effort of holding himself up as the man began to drag him from the room, away from Sam. He tried to punch and kick out but his blows carried no strength behind them and connected with nothing but air. He stopped as he saw two men going into the room and lifting his brother, carrying his motionless body between them.

"Anna, get the van ready" the white haired man said to someone Dean could not yet see.

"Where the hell are you taking us?" Dean spat out finding his voice at last.

"Hell's the right word baby" Anna said as she appeared dangling a set of car keys from her finger. It was the same beautiful woman whom Dean had met earlier.

"You know, your hard ass bitch act is getting kinda tiring" Dean replied, taking a breath as she reached out and backhanded him hard across the face. His nose immediately started to trickle blood which seeped down past his lips and dripped from his chin.

"It's not an act, before long, you'll start to realise that" She said, licking the back of her hand where spots of blood from Dean's nose had landed.

Dean found himself being brought out into the cold fresh air and bright sunlight. The vampires around him hissed, the sun's rays burning their pale iridescent skin. He was swiftly shoved into the back of a large black van. Dean had little time to look around to determine his location and the van's rear windows were tinted so that he could see nothing of the outside. Anna climbed into the back of the van and began to bind Dean's hands in front of him with a rough piece of rope. The van doors opened for a second time as the two men carrying Sam arrived, placing his brother none too gently inside. Anna took hold of Sam's slack arms as though to bind his hands too but she paused and bared her sharp white teeth, bending forward to bite.

"Wait...wait" Dean begged as she turned to look at him, "you said I'd taste sweet right? Well, you won't taste better" he said holding out his tied arms and offering them towards her.

She waited still clutching Sam's arms in her hands as though she was trying to decide what she would rather witness, the look on Dean's face as she savoured his brother's blood or the look on Dean's face as she drank from him instead. Finally she released Sam's arms and slid over to Dean. Wrapping her fingers around his forearm before raising it towards her face. She stared at him, pure delight dancing in her eyes as she bit down. Dean chewed on his bottom lip as he felt her teeth cutting into his skin. His body began to tingle with a peculiar deadening sensation. Then he felt numbness spread through his arm but he refused to return her gaze. Instead he concentrated on Sam reminding himself that he was protecting his brother from further pain. Sam was his kid brother, he wasn't meant to suffer, not when Dean was around.

Finally she lifted her head, little droplets of Dean's blood resting on her parted lips. She pulled away and groaned with pleasure. Leisurely she climbed from the back of the van and Dean watched as she took her place in the front, next to the white haired man who had been quietly studying them from the driver's seat. "Let's go" she said and the van started to move.

As the van drove along, Dean considered their escape options but knew it would be futile to try anything. He was too weak to carry his own weight with much success let alone the additional dead weight of his unconscious brother. Making a break for it and leaving Sam behind was never an option for Dean, not even if it meant he could find dad and bring back help. So he accepted with guilty remorse that this time, they would have to wait to be rescued. Holding on for that would be their biggest challenge. Dean was drawn away from his thoughts as he heard Sam's voice calling out for him quietly. He lent forward so that Sam's desperate searching eyes could find him.

"Hey sleeping beauty, were you trying for the world record nap or what?" Dean asked, his attempt at humour failing to mask the concerned tone of his voice. "How you feeling?"

"It depends, do I look anything like you?" Sam said as his eyes registered Dean's pale bloodied face.

"Nope but then I always thought you were adopted. Seriously, if you're going for that whole road kill look, then you're doing great" Dean said letting the whisper of a smile rest on his lips.

The van suddenly came to an abrupt stop and Anna turned round in her seat to look at the brothers. "Boys, it's time we gave daddy a call" she said, reaching into the glove box and removing a mobile phone. Dean felt himself stiffen as he realised it was his phone she was holding and he quickly exchanged a worried glance with Sam.

John had been waiting so long for his cell to ring, that when it finally did he dropped it in surprise. The name 'Dean' flashed on the caller display and he cursed himself as he floundered to pick it up, pressing the answer button and pushing it to his ear.

"John, John, John" a familiar female voice sang down the phone as John's grip on his cell tightened. "You were too late to save Peter weren't you? I can still smell human BBQ in the air. Funny isn't it how you managed to cover your own scent but I still tracked you to that motel and hey John, I've got to thank you for the presents you left. Your boys are simply alluring".

"You tortured Peter for my whereabouts didn't you? Then left him there to die?" John asked bitterly.

"He was entertaining for awhile, till he started all that nasty sobbing and pleading" Anna paused letting her words sink in, "he cursed your name whilst he was dying John. All your friends did, in the end".

"Let me speak to my sons" John demanded finding sudden strength which a moment ago, he had thought beyond him.

"You're not in any position to make requests John" Anna replied.

"You want me, that's right isn't it? Well take me! I'm waiting for you! Just let my sons go" John said fighting not to lose control of his emotions.

"I guess it is time our little game came to an end. You've heard of Cooperstown right? You've got till tonight to get there, then I'll call you again" Anna hung up.

John sat there still holding his phone pressed hard against his ear, listening to nothing but dead air. He hadn't spoken to his boys but John knew it was unlikely they were dead. He knew Anna too well by now. He knew her methods and her love of torturing her pray, dragging out every ounce of their suffering. Where Anna was concerned, death would be the kinder option. But even the faintest possibility of his sons being killed was shattering and he held onto the phone like it was the only thing connecting him to them. He took a few deep slow breaths and eventually lowered the phone before turning the key in the ignition and starting to drive.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As Anna hung up the phone Sam flashed a quick smile at Dean because she had been talking to their dad and if dad was talking, well, then dad was damn well still breathing and out there somewhere, _alive_. Dean acknowledged the smile with a heavy nod off his head.

Sam had remained laid out on the floor of the van. He'd tried to sit up but dizziness had struck, rolling over him in waves, forcing him to lie back once more. He knew it was a side effect of his recent blood loss and he had enough experience of injuries to know the loss wasn't too severe but still bad enough to leave him feeling just about as ill as he'd ever felt. He clenched his teeth against a wave of nausea although he was pretty sure there was nothing in his stomach to expel right now. The rear of the van was cramped and Sam flexed his long legs carefully, his body screaming in a melody of aches and pains. He was afraid and if truth be told the last few hours of regaining consciousness several times to find himself being used as an 'all you can eat' buffet had left him terrified. However he was with Dean and that fact alone kept him from losing it completely. Partly because his pride meant he didn't want his big brother seeing him as weak but also because having Dean by his side again made him feel a glimmer of faint hope, despite the pain, despite the twisted vampires who held them captive.

Dean had listened intently to Anna's side of the phone conversation with his dad and had been left troubled by what he had heard. He hated the idea of her using them to get to his dad, he didn't want to be a bartering chip for anyone and wasn't about to let them use Sam as bait. He'd realised earlier that Anna had been too busy chowing down on his arm to remember to tie Sam's hands but their poor physical state and the desire to look after his brother had prevented him from acting on the fact. Now though, with things becoming increasingly bleak and his dad at risk, Dean found himself trying to formulate an escape plan. Firstly, he told himself, he would need to get his hands free.

Dean looked down at Sam catching his brother's eye and motioned at his hands. Sam caught on quickly, similar thoughts of escape obviously not far from his mind either. Sam stayed on his back but shuffled forward, edging himself closer to where Dean was sat. He kept his eyes firmly on the front of the van, on Anna and the white haired man, as he cautiously reached for Dean's bound hands. He'd barely untied the first knot when the white haired man suddenly pulled the van over, causing the tires to screech piercingly. Dean found himself unbalanced by the manoeuvre and with his hands still tied, he fell awkwardly to the side. The white haired man was out of his seat in an instant and heading for the back of the van. _Oh shit, _Dean thought to himself as he saw his little brother's face engulfed with pure blatant fear. The vampire practically ripped the rear door off its hinges as he yanked it open. He reached in and taking hold of Sam's right ankle, started to pull him from the van.

"Oh hell no. Don't even think about touching him you bastard" Dean shouted in alarm, suddenly more than a little afraid.

His words spurred the white haired man to leap into the back of the van and punch Dean viciously in the face. Dean's head snapped backwards hitting the side of the van and Dean was stunned into silence for a moment, literally seeing stars. The man reached down and took hold of Sam's ankle again. He hauled him from the van, so that Sam fell clumsily in a heap onto the road. Sam's head swivelled as he looked about in panic. There was not a car or house in sight, just an endless stretch of tarmac covered highway. Sam silently accepted that making a run for it would be impossible let alone foolish especially with Dean still inside the van and besides, he had other concerns right now, namely an enraged vampire staring angrily down on him.

"I told Anna you wouldn't be stupid enough to try and escape. You had to go and make me a liar kid" the man grunted, as he raised his foot and swiftly kicked Sam in the head.

"Fucking hell, stop it" Dean screamed from inside the van, not doubting for a second that the vampire had every intention of kicking his brother to death right there by the roadside.

"Nathaniel, stop it" Anna echoed from her seat, "I don't want either of them killed, we still need them alive".

Nathaniel paused seeming to have heard Anna's words and the red mist gradually lifted from his eyes. He picked Sam up, forcing him back into the rear of the van before resuming his seat and starting the engine.

Dean was on the verge of becoming frenzied with anger but forced himself to calm as he saw Sam was still conscious, although the gash on his forehead had been reopened and a new cut just above his eyebrow was pouring blood. Had the kick been aimed any lower, Sam could have lost his eye. The thought made Dean's blood boil.

As though he'd heard his brother's thoughts, Sam reached an arm out for Dean. "Dean, I can't see anything" Sam whispered sounding scared, bringing his fingers to touch at his face.

A cold shiver instantly ran down Dean's spine. He lent forward hurriedly before letting out a hollow chuckle which stuck in his throat. "Dude, you have blood in your eyes" he said quietly before awkwardly trying to wipe at Sam's face with his tied hands. He moved close to Sam's ear "Sammy I'm so sorry man. No more escape attempts okay? Dad's coming, we'll let dad handle this one".

"I'm okay, it's not your fault Dean" Sam mumbled blinking away blood from his eyelashes.

"Yeah...you're about as close to okay as I am" Dean replied touching lightly at the rapidly rising bruise on his cheek which Nathaniel's blow had left.

The van continued to move through open countryside as dusk began to draw in. The sky was tinged with streaks of crimson red as the sun sank below the clouds. At long last, once darkness had settled and the moon shone down its eerie glow, the van came to a stop. Anna reached to retrieve Dean's cell phone once more but before she had chance to raise it to her ear, a faint bang was heard. The bang was distant but to the brothers unmistakable, a rifle shot. The bang was rapidly followed by the sound of smashing glass as the rifle bullet found its target and the van windscreen imploded showering the occupants with slivers of glass. Nathaniel slammed his foot on the accelerator and the van started to move again at speed, weaving on the road as he struggled to maintain control. There was a strange whistling sound in the air and Nathaniel grunted, falling forward, hands clawing at his jacket. He looked down to see a crossbow arrow embedded in his stomach impaling him to his seat. Anna wailed loudly as Nathaniel lost control of the van which careered off the road, before rolling down a steep rocky embankment. Only coming to rest as the van smashed against a large tree, its front end crumpled with the force of the impact.

-0-

_I know, it's beyond evil of me to stop here but Chapter 8 will be up soon, promise!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, I was going to post this __in the morning__ but it__'s already finished a__nd Chapter 9 is being a bitch and taunting me so..._

**Chapter 8**

John scrambled down the bank, the sight of the overturned van making him quicken his pace. The rear doors of the van were bent inwards and he reached for them, pulling blindly at the broken metal which sliced into his hands. He struggled, gasping hard, as he managed to lever one door open and squeezed his body through the narrow gap. In the dim light, he could see Sam and Dean were a tangle of arms and legs but both were breathing. Dean pulled himself from underneath his brother "d..dad?".

"Take it steady" John's large callused hands were unexpectedly gentle as they took hold of Dean and lifted him up. John then put a hand on Sam's arm as Sam groaned loudly, his eyes flickering with fear for a moment until they recognised his dad's face.

From the front of the van, Anna was screaming, blood curdling shrieks as she struggled to free her legs which were trapped in the wreckage. She reached out a hand and slapped Nathanial's face, who was lent with his head resting against the steering wheel.

John looked at her, noticing her struggles for the first time, "dead man's blood was on that arrow" he growled.

Anna stared at him, unabashed icy contempt clouding her face, "you're not playing by the rules John".

"Suck it up bitch" Dean replied, helping his dad pull Sam carefully from the back of the van.

Sam placed an arm around Dean's shoulders as they leaned heavily on one-another, making their way shakily to the top of the embankment where the Impala was waiting. John went straight to the trunk and retrieved his axe, making to head back down to the van. A hand landed on his arm stopping him in his tracks, "dad look!" Dean was pointing into the distance where a van, identical to the one crashed below, was heading towards them. "It's the rest of them, please, let's go".

John hesitated, staring at the wreaked van, his fingers tensing around the axe handle. "Dad...please" Sam pleaded leaning heavily against the side of the Impala before John finally relented. They hurried to get into the car, before speeding away.

Whilst his boys slept, John drove throughout the night refusing to stop, not even for gas. It was with an immense sense of reluctance that he finally pulled in at a motel on the outskirts of Fort Thompson, South Dakota, with the petal gauge flashing 'empty' and the light of early dawn penetrating the starry sky. In no time at all Sam and Dean were each stretched out on their soft motel beds fully clothed and lost to an exhausted sleep. John hadn't had the heart to insist his sons get undressed, not this time, so he removed their shoes and tended their wounds with expertise. Then he settled himself in a chair in the corner quietly watching over them as they slept.

It was Dean who woke first, some eight hours after John had first checked them in. His nose twitched and he scratched at it drowsily as an unfamiliar disagreeable smell attacked his nostrils. He sat up slowly, leaning back on his elbows to see John still sat in the chair. By the side of him, on the table, was a large bowl in which John appeared to be burning something. "Please tell me that's not breakfast" Dean asked, scrunching up his nose in revulsion.

John looked up as though taken by surprise, "I wouldn't recommend eating it. It's saffron, skunks cabbage and trillium."

Dean raised an eyebrow, hinting for his dad to explain further.

"It'll mask our scent. Once a vampire has your scent, they don't forget it" John said shifting in his seat.

Dean let out a deep sigh and flopped back on the pillows. For the briefest of moments, he'd almost believed the last few days had been some horrible nightmare. Although Dean's bad dreams generally tended to revolve around waking up with a hangover, next to an overweight waitress who had a moustache and halitosis.

"Turns out, Anna and the white haired man are brother and sister" John seemed uneasy as he spoke.

"Nathaniel, his name's Nathaniel" Sam said suddenly, making both John and Dean turn to look at him as he sat up slowly in bed.

"Well, Anna 'turned' Nathaniel..." John continued.

"She turned her own brother?" Dean interrupted shocked.

"Technically, she turned her _brothers_. Jacob died last year" John muttered thoughtfully.

"What happened?" Sam asked quietly rubbing a hand over his forehead and hissing as his fingers fell upon the sensitive wound there.

John got up and moved over to sit on the edge of Dean's bed before looking at both his boys, "I took the sick son of a bitch's head. They were targeting families, killing the parents and taking their kids. Keeping the children alive to feed on, guess they had a taste for young blood". John paused the memory turning his stomach. "I caught Jacob trying to carry off a nine year old girl from her bedroom".

"And you killed him?" Sam said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his bent knees.

"I got the kid out, then blew his head clean off. Anna and Nathaniel have been on my trail ever since" John answered.

"Wait, since last year? Months? You've had psychotic vampires hunting you for months and you tell us this now?" Dean was stunned, his eyes conveying a sense of disillusionment in his father which his heart refused to accept.

"Son, we operate on a need to know basis and I guess, I thought you didn't need to know" John's voice was just above a whisper.

Dean climbed out of bed and moved over to Sam. He took Sam's arm and held it out in front of John's face. John had become aware of the many puncture wounds on Sam's arm, which were still red and angry, whilst the boys were sleeping but the sight of them now made him lower his eyes to the floor. Sam quickly pulled his arm away from Dean's grasp and shoved it deep under the bed covers.

"These vampires are deadly, I thought I was protecting you...I was wrong" John didn't look up. "Guess, I've been wrong a lot lately and others have paid the price".

"What others?" Dean took a seat on Sam's bed, facing his father.

"Peter Cains died the night you were taken. They tortured him, left him bleeding out on the floor of his own kitchen" John stared at a stain on the carpet.

Dean recognised the name straight away. Peter Cains was mentioned in his father's journal and Dean was sure he'd met him once, years ago when he was still a boy. He had a distant memory of a ramshackle two story house and a kindly old man giving him warm lemonade. A retired hunter his dad had said with a remarkable knowledge of the supernatural. Dean knew John had visited Peter often over the years, mainly when he needed research information but also because he had a genuine soft spot for the old man. "You said _others_?" Dean pressed.

"Peter isn't the only friend of mine they've killed. I suppose Jacob wasn't the sickest of their little family. Anna seems to run the nest, although Nathaniel likes to think he's the leader". John stood up and looked towards the bag of weapons which sat on the floor. "Which is why I'm going to end this".

"Whoa, you're going after them?" Dean asked as John nodded a simple yes. "Not without us, dad"

"You're both injured and need rest. This isn't up for discussion" John said sternly.

"No!" Sam said climbing out of bed and standing in front of his father, his gangly height meaning that even at only 17 he was able to stare John right in the eyes. "You don't leave us behind, not again". His words were firm and John found himself breaking eye contact first.

"Son...you can't" John began but Dean was on his feet, taking a stance by his brother's side and the two of them, everything John loved in the world, were united in their defiance.

John sighed and begrudgingly felt his resistance begin to falter.

-0-

_Had to give the boys a slight reprieve __from all the __beating__s__, otherwise I'd be a serious contender for 'the most battered Winchesters __fic'. __Hmmmmmmm__ have a strange feeling I won't be able to resist for long though. More soon, once I've finished wrestling Chapter 9 that is..._


	9. Chapter 9

_A massive thank you and tasty baked goods to: gidgetgal9, PurpleSphinx, sammygirl1963, xxHardcoregirlxx, iris254, Thorny Hedge, apieceofcake, weimfriend, RireneC, daisymaygirl1, cruzing4jensen, friendly, silentpixiee, heather03nmg, skag trendy, Visionary, xwhiteorblackx, kokomocalifornia, pageavenue57, vampyfreak and mel087. Your kind reviews were the only thing which got me though the headache which was Chapter 9, that and a large mug of extra strong whisky laced coffee …_

**Chapter 9**

Whilst John's usual barrier of resistance had crumbled somewhat on the subject of letting his boys provide him with back up, he refused point blank to have the two watch his back whilst they were clearly off their game. So he put his foot down and it was settled that they stay at the motel and get some rest. For the time being at least, nobody was going anywhere. Although John's knee bounced every time he sat down and his fingers constantly tapped, he clenched his jaw and kept to his word.

Sometime after they had woken, John went out and returned with a selection of Chinese food in an assortment of colourful containers. The food disappeared quickly. With his stomach full, Dean was feeling almost human again. He climbed into the shower and stood letting the hot water beat down on his sore limbs. Sighing as the remaining tremors of adrenaline finally ebbed away. He had wanted to go to a bar, to let his body fully relax with the aid of a beer or four. He craved the warm numbing sensation a drink would give his brain. Anything to prevent his mind from subjecting him to the repeated flashbacks with front row seats, where he saw Nathaniel's foot swinging to strike at Sam's head or the look on Anna's face as it lit up when she bit into his arm. The temptation to go to a bar was with him all day, but he stayed at the motel. He stayed within sight of his little brother. Boredom threatened to drive him to distraction but he still did not leave. Instead he stretched out on his bed, the TV remote stuck in his hand, casually flipping through the channels.

In the short space of time he had been reunited with them, John had noticed a change in his boys. They had always been close as brothers, despite their obvious differences, but now it appeared they feared to be separated. When Dean had nipped out to fetch a can of soda from the motel office vending machine, Sam had chewed his lip for a moment before getting up and hurrying after him. Dean had eventually settled comfortably on his bed, eyes glued to the television but every now and then, he would turn his head in Sam's direction before turning his attention back to the screen. Sam meanwhile sat hunched in a chair his eyes hidden by his dark bangs whilst he studied the book on his lap, although John had noticed he hadn't turned a page in the last hour or so. Looking at their pale faces, with dark circles still evident under their eyes, John saw a trace of what his sons had experienced and it made him ache with indefinable anger.

John remained vigilant throughout the day. He revisited the smoking bowl on the table several times to add a touch more saffron or to blow on the smouldering herbs, which sent a foul smelling cloud wafting throughout the room. Whilst Dean maintained a respectful manner towards his father and questioned him a little on his knowledge of the vampire nest, Sam didn't attempt to speak with John at all preferring instead to stay buried in his book. There was a general sense of restlessness in the room, which went unspoken but was undeniable, hanging repressively over them like a black cloud.

When John's mobile finally rang, it was almost dark. John wasn't really surprised, he had been expecting the call with some trepidation. Sam raised his head from his book and moved to stand near his father. Dean quickly switched off the television and lent forward attentively. John looked at the name 'Dean' which flashed on the display screen. He paused before pressing the answer button, "hello?"

"John you spoiled our game, you cheated" Anna hissed menacingly.

John's grip on the phone tightened but he didn't talk.

"John, I see you still want to play. You don't want to talk to me, maybe I can do something to convince you?"

John waited as a scuffling noise was heard on the phone before a voice spoke, a voice which John recognised in an instant. "John?" the voice said breathlessly, lightly concealed pain bubbling below the surface of the question.

"Mike?"

"Get away John. Get your family away…" the voice implored before going quiet.

John listened hard, there was the faint sound of a struggle followed by an audible yelp and Anna's cool calm voice returned to the phone, "so John, feel like talking?"

"Let him go"

"John, this is my game, I make the rules. I decide who lives and dies, not you. If you don't want anyone else to die on your account, then you'll do exactly what I say."

Sam watched as his dad began pacing the room, continuing his conversation. Eventually, John lowered the phone, letting it hang by his side. He took a seat on one of the beds and looked first at Dean then at Sam. "They want me to go to Wicker Lake, North Dakota….alone".

"No way!" Dean hadn't meant it to come out as yell but John's face flinched all the same.

"If I don't go alone, they're going to kill Mike Baker" John replied running a hand over his face.

Dean's ear's pricked up at the name, _another one of dad's friends _he thought miserably. "Dad it's a trap, can't you see that, Mike's probably dead already?" his voice becoming increasingly desperate. He didn't want Mike to be dead, he truly didn't but he wanted his father alive more.

"I'm going, alone, I'm sorry" John stood up. He turned to look at Sam, before reaching out hesitantly to touch Sam's shoulder. Sam gave him a calm wide-eyed expression then stepped away so that John's hand was left suspended in mid-air. John felt the loss of contact, like a punch. He paused for the briefest of moments to look at his boys before reaching for his bag and walking out the door. Dean moved to the window and watched as his dad walked away, swallowed by the darkness of the cold night.

-0-

_For the purpose of the story, the lake mentioned in this chapter exists only in my head. For love nor money, I couldn't find a real one which would meet the story's needs…_

_Anyway, time to get back to some action next chapter…_


	10. Chapter 10

_Welcome to the story sendintheclowns, criminally charmed, renniespice, RhianaStar, Samastar and supernatural16. So, great to have you along for the ride. I actually enjoyed writing this chapter, but then, it's always nice to get back to the whumpage action. Bah – must be cos BlueEyedDemonLiz is clearly a sick puppy ; D _

**Chapter 10**

Dean turned from the window to meet Sam's gaze. "You don't have to do this," he said as he reached for his leather jacket.

Sam shrugged "it's dad, of course I do".

They left the room hastily and crossed over to the motel parking lot. There wasn't a huge choice of cars and Dean disappointment was evident as he cast his eyes over the sparse selection. Sam jabbed him hard with his elbow and Dean grunted finally moving over to an old Ford pickup. He jammed the lock with ease and they climbed in. "Does no-one look after their cars anymore?" Dean griped settling in the driver's seat, which was covered with dirty ripped upholstery. The car spluttering to life as Dean continued to grumble, swiping at the empty candy wrappers on the dashboard.

Snow was coming down hard now, a cruel wind picking it up and whipping it into a blizzard, the pickup's old wipers were working overtime to clear the snow from the windshield. Sam reached over from his seat and cranked up the heating, shivering despite the blasts of warm air. He thought of his dad out there with Nathaniel and Anna and shivered again.

Reaching for the bag beside him, Sam removed a long machete, turning it slowly in his hands. John had often told his sons that life as a hunter meant 'kill or be killed' but that didn't mean Sam didn't struggle with it. They hunted the supernatural but when the supernatural came with a human face, Sam found he was confused and hesitant when he had to deal a killing blow. Even though in his heart he knew that a human face worn by a shapeshifter, demon or vampire was simply the mask which they used to conceal the malevolent evil beneath. As he sat there holding the machete tight in his hands, he felt surprisingly different. Tonight he wanted to feel it slice through skin and bone, wanted to see blood pool from a wound he had inflicted. More than anything, he wanted to see Anna and the white haired man dead. For everything they had done to those children, to their families, to _his_ family. He wouldn't doubt his actions, not for a second, were he to take their heads.

Sam dozed fitfully as the pick-up drove though the night. He dreamed, dark dreams of screaming children with blood soaked faces and woke with a start when Dean nudged him gently, his hand resting on Sam's arm. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was soft and Sam opened his eyes to find Dean's concerned face leaning over him.

"What's up….we here?" Sam asked as Dean shifted his hand away awkwardly.

Dean's concerned look faltered and was quickly buried by a rueful grin "just mopping up your drool".

Sam lent forward trying to see through the windscreen, which was partly obscured by a build up of snow. Parked by the side of the road, on the edge of a forest, he could make out the Impala, shadowed by trees. "Guess we gotta walk" he said climbing out of the pickup and pulling up the hood of his jacket against the cold.

"People do this for fun?" Dean mumbled eyeing the beginning of a hikers trail which led off through the trees. He reached for his torch and cast the beam so that it lit up the bare spidery branches, sending sinister shadows dancing on the snow.

Dean took the bag from the passenger seat and removed a gun, slipping it in the back of his jeans before also taking out a machete, similar to the one Sam was holding. They trudged forward making their way to the trail, which would lead them down to the lake.

"You okay?" Dean asked nonchalantly as they walked.

"I'm fine, you?"

"Yep, fine."

"Not scared?"

"Takes more than a few freaks with a serious overbite problem to scare me" Dean replied mirroring the smile, which briefly filled Sam's face.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, each brother keeping their eyes open for any sign of danger. Eventually the trail led them down through an opening in the trees so that they found themselves stood at the top of a hill, the lake visible below them, a huge stretch of glimmering ice. Sam took a breath and reached out suddenly to grab Dean's jacket, pulling him down so that they were laid out on their stomachs in the snow. Sam indicated at the lake where on the bank, silhouetted by the moonlight, he could see their father. John's arms held out by his sides as a sign of his submission.

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John held out his arms, then turned in a circle slowly, lifting up his coat to show he carried no concealed weapons. Anna slowly made her way out from between the trees walking towards him, carrying something in her hands. John went cold. She was holding Mike Baker's head like it was a trophy.

"You said if I did what you wanted…" John began.

"You're not the only one who can cheat John" Anna's eyes danced as she purposely dropped the severed head so that it rolled, coming to a stop at John's feet, dead eyes staring blankly skywards.

John yelled something unintelligible and bent down, thrusting his hands deep into the snow, grabbing for the axe, which he had hidden there. He raised it, swinging wildly. Anna's eyes were fearful but only for a moment, as three vampires rushed from the shadows of the trees and John collapsed under a flurry of vicious blows.

On the hill, Dean and Sam watched as Anna came into view walking towards their dad. As she held out the severed head, Dean dragged Sam up and they made their way cautiously down the hill, trying to stay behind the cover of the trees. As they got nearer they could hear Anna talking and the sound of her voice made Sam recoil despite himself. They took up position ready to attack but just at that moment, John yelled out and grabbed an axe from the snow. Dean felt fury spur him forward but someone had grabbed his coat and was pulling him backwards, he turned to find himself face to face with Nathaniel. Dean's eyes flicked to behind Nathaniel where he could see Sam was on the ground, struggling against the weight of a huge vampire, who was pushing his knee into the centre of Sam's back. Sam yelped as his broken wrist was pinned behind him.

With Dean momentarily distracted Nathaniel thrust his fist out, punching Dean so that he fell face first onto the ground, his machete flying from his grasp. Dean could hear Sam screaming his name as Nathaniel's foot came down cruelly on the back of his neck, pressing his face into the snow.

"Do you know what dead man's blood does to a vampire?" Nathaniel asked coldly, pressing down harder with his foot. "It makes you feel weak, makes taking each and every breath a struggle. Kinda like what you're feeling now, right kid?"

Dean tried to answer, to take a breath, but found he was sucking up snow and dirt. Dead leaves clogging in his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat making him gag. He could hear Sam, his cries becoming muffled. _This is it _Dean thought as his head began to pound from lack of oxygen, _I'm going to die and they've got dad, they've got Sam! _The realisation making him sob, taking in another mouthful of dirt and snow. His body writhed under the pressure of Nathaniel's foot, sapping all his dwindling strength as he tried to push his face up. Then Nathaniel's rough hands grabbed him, heaving him up so that Dean was back on his feet, gasping in lungfuls of cold clean air and coughing hard.

"Anna wants to watch" Nathaniel said reluctantly as Dean and Sam were hauled in the direction of the lake.

As they came to stand before the ice covered lake, Nathaniel stopped and stared into the darkness, towards two figures that were stood amongst the trees. Whatever signal he had been waiting for must have arrived for Nathaniel bent down. He picked up a heavy stone and without warning, struck Dean in the side of the head so that his body dropped bonelessly to the ground. Sam roared in fright, his fists thrashing out blindly against the vampire that held him back. The vampire let him go and Sam ran forward, falling to his knees at Dean's side, his brain telling him that Dean was surely dead. Sam let his head drop and started to cry. Hot tears stung his cold cheeks as he covered his face with trembling hands and despair ripped his composure to shreds. He didn't notice as more vampires joined Nathaniel and began to gather around him.

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Anna smiled as she watched John's motionless body being dropped at her feet. She took his head in her hands and roughly slapped his face. John's senses returned to him with painful lucidity, his body felt battered and he knew the punches and kicks he'd received had done damage to his ribs. He opened his eyes, to see Anna looking at him. He stood up unsteadily, fearfully anticipating her next move.

"You really should take better care of your young" Anna smiled, raising her arm and pointing at the lake beyond him.

John doesn't want to look, doesn't want to lose eye contact, doesn't want to give her the chance to get the drop on him. But those are his boys she's dangling in front of him, his babies she's taunting him with so he turns slowly and stares through the trees………

-0-

_Woo hoo - we're finally back where it all started, chapter 11 will pick up where chapter 2 left us. I'll update in a couple of days, just need a little time to do the next chapter justice, I owe you guys that much._


	11. Chapter 11

_Recap (chapter 2)_

"_How's your brother's breathing?" John asks trying to keep his eyes on the road and not on the rear view mirror where he can see Sam laid out on the back seat, his lips and eyelids still tinged blue._

_Dean leans forward, his ear pressed close to Sam's mouth. He looks up, his face panicked "he's barely breathing dad"._

_John puts his foot down hard on the gas..._

**Chapter 11**

John doesn't remember parking the Impala, although returning to it later, he finds it's parked halfway onto the sidewalk. The driver's side door still wide open. He doesn't remember lifting his youngest son from the rear seat and having to prise Dean's fingers away from Sam's arm. He doesn't even remember running through the hospital doors screaming for help. John isn't a needy man, he's not weak or overly emotional but he was crying as he clutched Sam's body, hung limply in his arms.

What he does remember, like it's been burned into his brain, is how lifeless Sam looked as he was carefully lowered onto a gurney. He remembers it being wheeled away, despite every part of him aching to hold on to it and never let go. He also remembers the look on the face of the young doctor who had quickly checked Sam's vitals. A well rehearsed look of pity, which made John want to punch him until _he_ was the one who'd stopped breathing.

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Dean stares blankly at the IV attached to the back of his hand and reaches for it, ripping it away. It stings and fresh blood spills down his hand but he doesn't really care. His fingers have gone from being numb to painfully aching, they're wrapped in tight sterile bandages to treat the mild frostbite he'd suffered but his own pain isn't important to him. He buries his discomfort away because he's been sat in his hospital bed for the last two hours. It's been three hours since he last saw Sam and he can't endure the not knowing any longer.

John is there in Dean's room, an unwavering figure standing by the window, his face half-hidden by shadows. He sees Dean climbing out of bed, bare feet slipping down from the blankets to touch the cold tiled floor. "Dean…" he starts to say but stops instead turning away to stare out the window. Dean can see his mouth moving but no sound is coming out.

Dean shuffles across the room, painfully slow. He reaches out a bandaged hand to touch John's shoulder and they stand there for a moment before Dean speaks "Dad?"

"Dean I'm…" John says again quietly, turning to look at Dean but struggling to meet his son's eyes. He can see the pent up grief in Dean's face, how desperately Dean wants him to make everything okay and John feels helpless. A terrible helplessness he hasn't known for 17 years, not since he saw Mary pinned to the ceiling, burning.

They both jump, startled, as a petit blonde nurse enters the room and coughs, clearly wanting to announce her presence. "Young man, you really should be in bed". She's protests spotting Dean stood by his father's side. Her face grows annoyed as she sees he's removed his IV.

"Not till I see my brother, where is he?" Dean asks his face set and determined.

The nurse stares for a moment, realisation dawning that she's on the losing side of the battle, "I'll do my best to find some news out for you, now please, back in bed".

A short time later, which feels like a lifetime to Dean, the same young doctor who admitted Sam walks into the room. Dean and John turn to look at him expectantly.

"Mr Winchester" he says eyeing John carefully, something about the older man's body language making him nervous. "As you know the patient's heart stopped from the shock of the freezing water. He was suffering from hypothermia when you brought him in but this is a good thing as it most likely protected his brain and vital organs from the effects of hypoxia. We give him Epinephrine to boost the supply of oxygen and glucose to his brain and Atropine was administered to speed up his heart rate".

Dean cringes at the formal use of the word 'patient'. He's using medical terms Dean doesn't understand and Dean feels himself becoming angry. He needs to understand _everything_ where Sam's health is concerned. "Sam. He's my brother and his name is Sam" Dean eyes are fierce and the doctor doesn't argue.

"Well, our main concern now is that Sam was without oxygen for quite some time and we'll not know the full effects of any brain or organ damage until Sam wakes up" the pitying look is back on the doctor's face again and John's fists clench. "But…you can sit with him if you like" he stammers fearing the dangerous look in both men's eyes.

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Sam was the same height as Dean by the time he was fourteen, by the time of his sixteenth birthday he was taller than Dean, but Dean never stops calling him 'little brother'. Sam looks small now though, young and painfully vulnerable laid out in the bed surrounded by various beeping machines. Dean fights back tears as John pushes his wheelchair into Sam's room. Using the wheelchair had taken a little persuasion but Dean quickly relented knowing it was the only way John would let him leave his own room.

Dean's eyes wander over Sam's face, drinking in every detail of his pale complexion and the purple bruises smudged underneath his closed eyes. His hair is ruffled with locks hanging loosely over his forehead and Dean reaches and pushes them back. Sam's broken wrist has been put in a cast and it rests on top of the blanket. There's a ventilator by the side of Sam's bed, leading to a tube, which has been put down Sam's throat. Tape holding it securely in place. Dean's fingers itch to remove it, like it's somehow hurting Sam as much as it hurts Dean to see it there.

Dean wants to speak to Sam. He remembers vaguely hearing how its meant to help a coma patient if you talk to them but everything Dean needs to say sounds too much like a Hallmark moment so he reaches out and grips Sam's hand and though no words are used the gesture speaks volumes.

John doesn't sit down and he doesn't speak. Dean suddenly wishes his dad would say something, anything, he'd even settle for his dad yelling at him for them being at the lake in the first place but John remains silent pacing the room. There's a look on his face, which Dean can't quite put his finger on and then a thought hits him and he feels sick to the stomach. "You killed them all, right dad?

John stops pacing and looks hard at Dean. "No…Anna got away".

Dean's feels momentarily stunned. John Winchester doesn't let anyone get away. Then he remembers the Shtriga witch and how Sam almost died all those years ago. Suddenly it all makes sense, John let Anna get away to save him and to save Sam. "Oh god and Nathaniel?"

"Dead, he's dead"

"So she could be anywhere, shit dad, she could be here?" Dean feels his chest tighten as he speaks.

"I know" John replies, grimacing as though it hurts to say it.

Dean's grip on Sam's hand tightens. _There's no way, no way, she's ever touching you again_ he tells himself looking at Sam's still face.

-0-

_So it's not over… not quite yet anyway._

_Please excuse any glaring medical inaccuracies, I'm a trained first aider at work but all that means is that I can remove a splinter from your finger and know how to put you in the recovery position and that's about it…anything else and you're pretty much screwed._


	12. Chapter 12

_Apologies for the delay__ - had a few ideas for this chapter which I wanted a little time to work through. __Once again, many thanks to everyone for their generous reviews._

**Chapter 12**

Dean wakes to the sound of choking. His head shooting up from where it had been resting on the edge of Sam's bed as he registers the alarm in Sam's eyes. Sam's fingers clawing to remove the tube from his throat. Dean quickly leans forward, grabbing Sam's flying arms, holding them down by his sides. "Easy, easy kiddo...some help here?" Dean shouts trying to control his own panic as well as that of his brother.

John rushes to the bed, from his place by the window where he had been keeping a silent vigil. He reaches out a hand to stroke Sam's hair, "steady son, it's there to help you breath" he says. The sound of his voice appears to have a calming effect on Sam, whose struggles gradually subside as he glances at John before finally letting his eyes rest on Dean. There is a flurry of activity as Sam's doctor and a couple of nurses hurry into the room. John and Dean are quickly ushered out into the corridor despite their loud protests.

The door closes behind them and Sam is hidden from their view. Dean leans against the wall and lets himself slide down to the floor where he sits resting his head on his knees. He feels John's hand on his shoulder and knows all they can do is wait for news on Sam. However, waiting isn't a Winchester strong point, especially when it concerns the youngest member of their family. Dean feels a lump rise in his throat and it takes all of his self control to stop himself barging his way back into Sam's room.

In due course the door opens and the young doctor appears, peering at the two Winchester men from behind his thick glasses. "He's fine, just resting, we've given him a mild sedative to keep him calm. Give him a chance to readjust to breathing on his own". He pauses as they absorb the information and the tension in John's shoulders starts to ease. "Can you come with me please Mr Winchester, we need to have a little talk?" he says to John. John nods and disappears down the corridor with the doctor leaving Dean still sat on the floor.

Dean shakily gets to his feet and heads off towards the waiting room where he knows there is a soft drinks machine. Although Dean wishes there was a bar so he could have a shot of something strong, anything to ease the trembling in his hands. Dean leans against the drinks machine. He makes his selection and winces as he bends down to collect his drink. The can is cold and he holds it against his forehead for a moment, letting little beads of water run down it onto his skin. He settles himself in one of the waiting room's hard plastic chairs and sinks back in it, his eyes falling closed.

He can't have been sat there more than five minutes but Dean's eyes are open again as he hears distant shouting. He quickly recognises his dad's voice amongst the fray and the tone is all too familiar, his dad is dangerously angry. Dean is on his feet and running, his can of soda falling to the floor spraying a fountain of frothy coke. Other men's voices are joining in the uproar now and he can hear his dad bellowing louder.

"YOU THINK I'VE HURT MY SON? GET THE HELL OFF ME!" John yells furiously as Dean turns the corner stopping dead in his tracks as he sees John being handcuffed by a police officer.

The young doctor is there, his nose dripping blood. A smartly dressed middle-aged lady is handing him paper towels which he presses against his nose trying to stem the flow. "I'm pressing charges Officer, the man is clearly insane. Mrs Gilpin is from Child Protection Services and was trying to explain to Mr Winchester here that they intend to take his son into their protection until a full investigation has taken place concerning the condition his son was in when he was brought to this hospital." The doctor's arms are flapping wildly and he seems triumphant as John's attempts to get at him are thwarted by the police officer. "Not to mention the boy had a surprising amount of old fractures as well as numerous _bite_ marks on his arm".

John continues to struggle and yell as the police officer begins to escort him away. Dean runs a hand over his face, his heart thumping. He wants to help his dad, wants to dash forward and punch out the doctor, not to mention the officer holding his dad's arms but knows it would prove a stupid mistake. He knows he can't afford to be arrested too, because that would mean leaving Sam alone in the hospital with Anna still at large. So he stands back, helplessly watching as his dad is dragged away. John looks round spotting Dean, he manages to catch Dean's eye and Dean knows then exactly what he should do, so he turns on his heels and heads back in the direction of Sam's room.

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Sam feels himself becoming increasing groggy and concentrates hard at trying to keep his eyes open. He needs to speak with his dad and Dean. Needs to hear them say that everything is okay, that they are okay but the sedative he has been given is swift acting and his eyes fall closed despite his efforts, immersing him deep in hazy dreams. In his dreams he's swimming, reaching for the surface of the water but finding instead a sheet of impenetrable ice trapping him beneath. He smashes his fist against it again and again but it doesn't break and it's cold, so cold...

Sam wakes shivering and looks around blearily to find his room in darkness. No dad or Dean in sight and it's still cold, freezing cold. He lifts his head from the pillow and sees the window is open, curtains moving gently in the breeze. "D...Dean?" his voice is horse and his throat feels sore from the extubation. He lets his head sink back onto the pillow and swallows hard a couple of times. Suddenly, a hand clasps across his mouth and his eyes widen in fear as a face leans over him.

"Shhhhhhhhhhh baby" Anna whispers, her lips softly kiss Sam's ear. He flinches at her touch and wants to move away but she's holding him down, her grip strong and unrelenting, long fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. A small smile twitches on her lips as Sam's dazed eyes travel over her. She looks different than before, her physical state now seemingly fitting her mental one. Her clothes are torn and dirty, her face peppered with small cuts. Leaves are caught in her tangled hair. "We've got a game to finish" she sighs, letting her finger stroke Sam's cheek in something akin to affection. A needle is plunged into the crook of Sam's arm and his vision begins to swim as his body sinks into unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

_Got to be honest, I've not been __that __happy with __my__ last 2 chapters but at last, feel like I'm getting back on track. I really like__d writing__ this chapter so hope it doesn't disappoint._

**Chapter 13**

Being a Winchester means a lot of different things to Dean. He feels the ceaseless pressure of needing to look after his brother, and on occasion his father too, like a cross he has to bear but it's a burden as necessary to him as the air he breaths. Sometimes the pressure is such that he believes he's nothing but the glue holding his family together.

When Dean gets angry his rage is pure and focused. Many times on a hunt, Dean would use his anger to his advantage. Frequently it had been his anger which powered his adrenalin, keeping him on his feet when other men would have fallen and this had saved his skin on more than one occasion.

Sam and John on the other hand, shared an inability to control their emotions. Dean couldn't count the number of times Sam and John had gone head to head, their anger growing to nuclear fallout proportions, resulting in Dean dragging one or the other away before their anger led to blows. Blows never had been exchanged but Dean knows it will happen. At some point one of them will push just that little bit too far, let their anger get the better of them and then...then there might be no going back. So Dean is disappointed in his father, knowing that he had let his anger lead to his arrest and he had left Dean behind to pick up the pieces.

The Winchester men have lived in each others pockets for so long that they can read each-other like pages from a book. So when John caught Dean's eye back there in the corridor, it was much more than just a look. What he actually said to Dean was, _"get yourself and your brother the hell out of Dodge". _Dean got the message loud and clear.

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Dean hurries through the hospital, attempting stealth, as much as a guy wearing a hospital gown splattered with soda is able to. He knows it's only a matter of time before the CPS take steps to ensure access to Sam is restricted and that can't be allowed to happen. So, providing Sam's health has improved sufficiently, the hospital will be minus two patients before the night is through.

He reaches Sam's room and goes inside. The room is in darkness and at first he assumes it's because Sam is sleeping but as his eyes adjust to what little light is filtering in from the window, he sees Sam's bed is empty. Dean swiftly reaches over and flips the light switch, gasping as the sudden brightness reveals Anna sat on the floor by the window cradling Sam in her arms. Dean's shocked because Sam was getting better but now he appears out of it, his head lolling onto his chest, a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow.

Dean is weapon less, they really should start putting pockets in hospital gowns, so he raises his hands submissively and tries to edge towards her.

Anna looks up, pausing from stroking Sam's hair, her eyes are unfocused and Dean feels alarmed because she looks crazy, well crazier, and that means she's volatile as well as dangerous and that's two things he doesn't want anywhere near his baby brother.

"Anna, let him go" Dean says trying his damned hardest to make a demand sound passive.

"Your father killed my brothers, he killed my family" Anna replies, going back to stroking Sam's hair.

"I'm sorry okay, I am but you need to let Sam go."

Ann chuckles and looks at Dean as though he's the crazy one. "I'm going to make John Winchester know what it feels like to lose family".

Dean gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and knows the answer before he even asks the question. "Did you do something to Sam?"

Anna laughs shrilly, a sound which sends bile rising to the back of Dean's throat. She stands up, letting Sam slip from her grasp onto the floor, where he lays unmoving. "Just something to help him sleep, I'm taking him...and I'm taking you too". She starts to move towards Dean, her arms outstretched, like some awful B-movie zombie.

"You're going to kill us" Dean says backing away, it's meant to be a question but comes out more like a statement.

Anna's laugh becomes louder, more hysterical, "no baby, to 'turn' you. I lost two brothers now I'm taking two back".

Dean feels his back touch the wall and he looks around urgently for something to defend himself with. Anna has a syringe in her hands and Dean knows that if the needle goes into him, things are as good as over for him and Sam. He scrambles forward, his hands grabbing the overbed table and Dean uses all his strength to throw it. Anna might be crazy but she's still a vampire and unnaturally strong as well as fast. She swings her arm out, knocking the table to the side as though it was made of paper.

She makes a dive for Dean, pinning him to the floor as she tries to plunge the needle into the soft tissue of his exposed neck. Dean's eyes close involuntarily, waiting for the stab of the needle but it doesn't come. Instead he feels a sudden wetness hit his cheek and his eyes fly open as his fingers instinctively come up to touch at the moisture on his face. He then realises Anna is bleeding, blood gushing from a hideous gaping hole in her neck. There's a whistling sound of something slicing through the air. Anna's head wobbles on her shoulders before the bone breaks and flesh tears away as the head rolls backwards hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

Dean is left half buried underneath Anna's headless body. Shoving it off himself with revulsion he's taken aback to see John, a bloodied axe still gripped in his hands. "Dad how?"

John's face is a mix of emotions but he gives Dean another Winchester patented look and Dean knows now is not the time for questions. They've got a hospital break out to stage, a vampire body to dispose off and a hell of a lot of blood to clear up...

-0-

_At last __guys :__ ), d__ing dong the bitch is dead, final chapter coming up soon._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Dean lets his fingers snake around Sam's wrist, resting them on his pulse. He sits quietly, calmed by the feeling of his brother's life pounding a steady rhythm underneath his fingertips. They don't have much time to spare but Dean isn't moving until he's completely satisfied that Sam is indeed just sleeping.

Looking down at his sons, John realises just how much he really does love his kids. Sam's not yet a man, his face still a picture of youthful adolescence but he's seen more and done more than most men, than most battle weary soldiers even and John lives every day with that fact branded on his brain. John knows he's the reason why Sam looks like an innocent kid but is about as far disconnected from his innocence as anyone should ever be. It hurts John but he knows it's also the reason why Sam's still breathing. Letting his children live in denial would be dangerous for them. Regardless of how sweet ignorance could be, John accepts the life he's made for them because he knows pure and simple that his boys are alive because of it. John looks away from his boys and instead studies his shoes as he feels a familiar swell of regret begin to heave in his chest, accepting the path he's chosen doesn't mean he has to damn well like it.

Dean finally stands, seemingly content that for now Sam is in no danger of dying anytime soon. His eyes widen in surprise as his dad shoves him a set of pale blue scrubs to change into. Dean looks over inspecting the white coat his dad has just slipped on, his eyes settle on the ID badge clipped to the pocket.

"Wait, that's Dr Jackson's coat. Sammy's doctor…" Dean says eyeballing his dad suspiciously.

"Well, he's not going to be needing it"

"Dad, you didn't?" Dean is shocked. The man was an asshole that deserved a beat down Winchester style sure, but not death.

"No! Geez Dean, of course not. He's locked in the boiler room"

Dean sniggers but he is unabashedly relieved. Any disappointment he had felt towards his dad is fading fast leaving behind only a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. He knows he'll beat himself up plenty later about ever having doubted his father in the first place. If anything, dad is the hero Dean always thought he was and for now Dean can't get the smile off his face. He quickly changes into the scrubs, happy to be finally wearing something which actually covers both his ass cheeks.

In the end Anna's decapitated head is shoved brusquely into John's bag and the body left where it fell. No doubt it's going to give the cleaning lady a nasty shock in the morning but getting it out of the room without being seen would be damn near impossible so the body they can leave, the head however has got to go. A decapitated body is bad enough but letting the Feds find a severed head, which comes complete with a set of retractable vampire teeth, would be grounds for shock on a whole other level.

Sam is gently placed on a gurney, a sheet covering him and the Winchesters are off scurrying through the hospital like the devil's on their tail. They head straight for the elevator and as the doors slide open a harassed looking nurse shuffles out, pausing as she glances down at Sam's sleeping face and then up at John, a curious expression settling on her features. "Wait, are you taking Sam Winchester for his scan now doctor…..?"

John shifts nervously as she leans in for a closer look at his ID badge and cottons on fast that the face in the picture isn't the one she's stood nose to nose with right now. She shrieks and Sam, who never did like missing out on things, chooses his moment to wake up with perfect timing. Sam's eyes open to slits, shooting daggers through his skull. His head feels muzzy and he's somewhat confused because the last thing he saw before everything went dark was Anna's manic face, "Dad? Dean? Wh..what's going on?"

Dean reaches over, shoving a hand over Sam's mouth as he rams the gurney past the nurse into the waiting elevator. His face scrunches as he mentally grapples for a suitable cover story, "erm…quick doctor, the patient is becoming hysterical" he shouts blatantly ignoring Sam, who's giving him one of his famous Sam Winchester glares.

John shrugs his shoulders at an attempt of an apology and hustles himself into the elevator. The nurse continues screeching and her face is becoming seriously red so Dean pounds his fist on the buttons and the doors finally slide closed.

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They're in a whole other state by the next morning and John picks the remotest motel he can find. Judging from how well the place is maintained, it's remote enough to rarely have more than a handful of guests so ideal for the Winchesters' needs.

Sam lets Dean help him over to his new bed, wincing as his body aches in disapproval. He feels crappy, seems like the last few days have been one long fight and he's been the punching bag. He still doesn't know what went down back there in the hospital with Anna so he leans forward to listen as Dean speaks.

"So dad, just how exactly did you get away from the cops?" Dean spots Sam's forehead crease in confusion as his eyebrows take a nosedive. Dean turns to him "CPS thought dad was beating the tar outta ya, you believe that bull?"

"No way?" Sam's eyebrows plunge even deeper.

John sits himself on the edge of Sam's bed and rests his hand on Sam's knee, "boys, there isn't a set of handcuffs in the world can hold me, not when I know my sons are in danger".

"You should have seen it Sam, that Anna bitch didn't know what hit her". Dean's face breaks into a huge grin and the sight of it makes Sam feel suddenly both at ease and blissfully safe.

John smiles as he gets up and walks towards the door. "Going somewhere dad?" Sam's asks, a sudden wave of apprehension sinking his good mood.

John's fingers turn the key in the door, locking it. "Not for a day or two. We'll rest up then we're heading for Pacific City, Oregon. Joshua's left me a voicemail about a nasty water wraith up there, been attacking surfers".

Sam's eyes can't hide his dismay, '_moving on'_, he thinks grimly. He leans back against the pillows, watching as his dad begins pulling out several crumpled newspaper clippings from his pocket before pinning them to the wall. Dean sits on his own bed, busying himself by meticulously cleaning his shotgun with an oiled cloth. Sam relaxes letting his thoughts wander as he looks around their room. Taking in the garish patterned wallpaper, the Formica covered table and mismatched rickety chairs. A small smile rests on his lips, realisation dawning now that home isn't here in some ancient fleabag motel, it's wherever dad and Dean are. He just can't quite believe he's only just starting to appreciate it.

"Sammy? Hey Sam?" Dean's voice breaks through Sam's thoughts, "we're going to grab some food, you feel well enough to come with us kid?"

Sam looks down at his arm. The bite marks are getting better, slowly turning from purple to yellow where the skin is still bruised. They say time is a healer but sometimes it leaves scars that pucker and fade but never really go away. Sam pulls his shirtsleeve down to cover the wounds. He clambers off the bed and hobbles to catch up with his family because right now, there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

End

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_Okay I was veering off into cheesedom there so thought I'd draw things to a close. Thanks so much to each and every one of you who've read this story and a huge hug to those who took time out to leave a review._


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